


A Gentleman Knows

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12767337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: Jack invites the champion to partake in afternoon tea. Adrian is suspicious; Jack understands why. He understands a great deal more too.





	A Gentleman Knows

 

 

 

A black tea with the merest splash of milk and a spoonful of clear honey. Tea fit for a king. Jack hadn't asked Adrian for his preference but he prided himself on being able to accurately assess these things. There was cake too – one made with delicious candied peel and currants and a Victoria sponge involving a particularly flavourful raspberry jam, almost certainly homemade. Jack had exceptional importers. One of them had sent him a peculiar message recently, asking if he was feeling well or needed to talk. Perhaps it was they that needed to talk and this was their way of asking for such a meeting. Jack was a very good listener, and he truly felt fine in himself.

 

 

There was a brisk knock at the door. Jack checked his pocket watch; Adrian was on time. Remarkable considering the many demands on his time as Cruiserweight Champion. Jack took such punctuality as a great compliment. Adrian was not the type to socialise, in or out of work. But he had accepted Jack's invitation.

 

 

Jack opened the door with minimal flourish, “Good afternoon.”

 

 

Adrian was carrying his championship belt and was clad in a simple smart polo shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders with ironed trousers. His hair was neatly tied back and he wore glasses, as he frequently did outside the ring. He wasn't quite scowling but his expression was not welcoming. He did stride past Jack into the flat however. Jack closed the door after him.

 

 

“The traffic wasn't bad, I assume. At this time of day-.”

 

 

“I'm not interested in small talk, Gallagher,” Adrian cut in, somehow making Jack's respectable surname sound like a swear word. “What's your game?”

 

 

Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Game? Well, I confess I'm partial to Marjong and a little Whist of an evening, especially when the stakes are interesting.”

 

 

“Don't treat me like a fool and don't act like one. I'm not buying that act. You suddenly grow a spine and some dignity and now you invite me over for tea? What game are you playing for my title, Gallagher?”

 

 

Ah. No wonder Adrian was holding his beloved belt so tightly. Jack smiled and turned to pour the tea. The smell was divine. He poured two cups and prepared Adrian's with the estimated milk and honey. He offered the cup, which smelled fragrant and tempting, to Adrian.

 

 

“I confess, I would like to hold that title of yours. I've a tweed that would go with it perfectly. But that is some way down a long road, wouldn't you say, Adrian?”

 

Jack took a sip of his own tea – containing more milk than Adrian's and no sweetener at all – and waited for Adrian to take the offered cup. Adrian was eyeing it with unwarranted suspicion, what did Adrian expect was going to happen here? That Jack would poison him? That was hardly Jack's modus operandi. He preferred face-to-face combat. He preferred absolute victory.

 

 

Adrian snatched the tea away at last and immediately took a sip. He didn't look disgusted; in fact his eyebrows twitched and he drank some more. Jack didn't hide his satisfied smile as he drank from his own cup before gesturing to the settee.

 

 

“Please.”

 

 

He chose the armchair for himself and observed as Adrian alighted on the settee. Even when he put the championship belt down, he rested a possessive hand on it. He didn't release the cup either, draining it with what looked like triumphant satisfaction and a slight nod at Jack, as though acknowledging the skill behind the cup. Not a word was spoken of course; Jack simply nodded back.

 

 

“So this long road?”

 

 

Every one of Adrian's words seemed to be a demand, Jack noticed. Couching his direct words more amenably was perhaps a key skill missing from his impressive arsenal. Jack put his tea down and laced his fingers together.

 

 

“I do intend to become our Cruiserweight Champion one day. You represent our fair isle superbly of course. After all, British wrestlers are the most impressively complete the world over and the world itself at large is at last waking up to this fact. A British athlete should hold such a prestigious title so why not ensure it by having two British atheltes, the cream of this very division, face one another?”

 

 

Adrian didn't outright lambast the idea. Of course he saw the sense in Jack's words. Jack sipped his tea once more before continuing.

 

 

“I'm sure management would see the wisdom of such an approach. After all, they cannot deny what you and I have achieved, the high praise we've accumilated.”

 

 

“What the fans think doesn't matter,” Adrian interjected savagely.

 

 

Ah, here was the rub wasn't it? Jack smiled and was gratified to see Adrian's expression twitch.

 

“I quite agree.”

 

 

Jack chuckled at Adrian's snort and visible disbelief and raised a hand to forstall any further jabs.

 

 

“I can understand your reticence. Perhaps my recent actions appear out of character? Truthfully, it took some time but eventually I realised that maybe Mr Kendrick's words held some truth. The people of the WWE Universe were not so amiably supportive of my exploits after all, but rather were laughing at me. And I have never taken kindly to that.”

 

 

Jack's grip on his teacup tightened a fraction. Such thoughts, at being thought of as a joke, a clown, drew only ire from within him. Such unpleasant consideration from those he'd thought were supporting him whole-heartedly. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

 

 

Jack had always had ambition – to work to the best of his abilities, to represent his training facility and teachers admirably, to enjoy the very best in life with the attitude and manners of a gentleman.

 

 

“See, if I find that so hard to believe when you're sat here in tweed and with that ridiculous moustache,” Adrian broke the silence. “You still look like a cartoon.”

 

 

Jack's smile did not thin, it did not twist into a frown. He'd expected such a reaction from Adrian and so he was prepared for it. How strange that Adrian didn't understand. It showed Jack that Adrian truly didn't realise the task he would face when Jack formally challenged him for his title. How very gratifying.

 

 

“The tweed and moustache, they aren't props or part of an elaborate mask,” Jack told him amiably. “They are entirely part of me. I am a gentleman but you're mistaken if you believe a gentleman is confined to elegant words and passivism. Our own Mr Regal has always demonstrated that.”

 

 

Jack had fond memories of lessons from his grandfather pertaining to manners, ties, the correct way to address a lady etc. But he also had memories of this same grandfather taking him to boxing matches; barrell-chested chaps with titles knocking each other down and then buying drinks for one another afterwards, of blood on neatly-taped hands. The latter seemed to be forgotten by so many – that gentlemen were capable of viciousness as well as impeccable manners, that they would not accept any disrespect and would punish those who attempted it. Gentlemen expected and strove to experience and embody the highest level of wherever they found themselves. Naturally, Jack was no different.

 

 

Adrian was looking at him with that same aspect of disbelief, almost derision, though there was perhaps a gleam of curiosity now too. Jack believed Adrian more than capable of observing what so many Americans appeared incapable of. But if he showed disappointing limitation, then Jack would utilise being so underestimated in their inevitable future match up.

 

 

A gentleman also knew the value of social connections though, such as socialising with the champion, so Jack didn't frown or point out the dangerous combination of Adrian's notoriously-injured knee and Jack's submission-based offence. A gentleman didn't talk of such things. A gentleman also knew the true value of gold.

 

 

Jack's smile broadened now, spreading his moustache in a manner that he knew to be pleasing. A gentleman knew his own value too.

 

 

“More tea?”

 

 

_-the end_

 


End file.
